Love Is Red, Heartache Is Blue
by Lady Dudley
Summary: Valentine's Day two-shot set when Sherlock is 'dead.' Loosely based on Taylor Swift's 'Red.' Mild angst. EDIT: Just realised the last two lines of the second chapter weren't posted, have fixed that little glitch.
1. Sherlock: Red

**A/N: It occurred to me that in order for Sherlock to notice things about Molly changing her hair or whatever, he'd have to actually remember things about her and it struck me that he seems to remember a _lot_. Also, I've seen a lot of stories focusing on Molly missing Sherlock when he's 'dead' but not a lot for the other way around so I thought it might be fun to combine the two ideas. This was originally a one-shot, that became a two-shot, for Valentine's Day. Loosely based on 'Red' by Taylor Swift, the lyrics are quoted at the start of the chapters - this one with slight modifications ;) ****Hope you enjoy :) **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**_Red_  
**

…  
_Remembering [her] comes in flashbacks and echoes  
Tell myself it's time now, gotta let go  
But moving on from [her] is impossible  
When I still see it all in my head  
Burning red  
Darling it was red_  
-'Red,' Taylor Swift  
…

Everything was red: red hearts, red chocolates, red cards, red scarves, red shoes, red dresses, red ties, red lipstick…

That last made him grimace slightly as it brought to mind the last time he'd seen that particular shade. He pushed the memory aside, unwilling to remember and a little annoyed that he'd been distracted from shoving all thoughts of her out of his mind.

He'd often been invaded by thoughts of her on this day, but he was usually able to set them aside.

Not so today.

Something about being several hundred miles away from her made it more difficult to push her from his mind.

The red wasn't helping.

He sighed as he took a seat in a café, in the most secluded space he could find; drastic measures were clearly in order. Folding his hands on the table in front of him, he took a cleansing breath and entered his Mind Palace.

Systematically he began to sort through all the information he had on her and try to stuff it back into the drawer reserved for her.

He was annoyed to find that the drawer was too small and some of the files spilled back out into his mind. For a brief moment he shied away from them as he realised everything dated from that Christmas party was written in red lipstick.

This was a disaster.

His brow furrowed as he concentrated on sorting through the information he wouldn't need, only to find that most of what he'd compiled was essentially useless information.

He peeked into the drawer and found that it was much larger than he had originally thought, he frowned as he realised it too was full of useless little titbits about her: how she wore her hair, her favourite jumper, the name of her cat.

This last caused a brief smirk as he remembered not even knowing Lestrade's first name, but the smile froze on his lips as he realised what it all meant.

He'd kept _thousands_ of tiny, insignificant facts about her and he'd never even noticed.

That was how he was able to deduce her so easily – even more easily than he could John – because he'd catalogued all the little things that made her who she was and he hadn't deleted any of it.

Why?

Forgetting his intention to remove all traces of her from his conscious mind, he delved deeper into his Mind Palace, shocked by how deeply she had penetrated it.

She was everywhere, even in the spaces that he tried to keep locked away. He knew he should be outraged that she'd invade his Mind Palace, but it didn't feel like an invasion, it felt…comfortable.

She always had the uncanny ability to put him at his ease, he'd always assumed it was because she was predictable but now he realised that it was because he knew her so well.

And she knew him.

It still surprised him that she'd been able to read him so effortlessly, no one had ever been able to do that so easily and certainly not in complete innocence like she had done.

His phone was in his hand before he knew it and he had to stop himself from typing in her number – another useless fact he seemed to have retained.

He couldn't message her out of the blue, it could potentially put them both in danger and he wasn't willing to take chances with her life. Not after all that she'd done for him.

His thumb stubbornly continued to hover over the keypad and he frowned, he…_missed_ her.

It was disgustingly sentimental, but he knew it was true. She'd gotten under his skin, into his Mind Palace and he found that he didn't want her to leave, he _liked_ her being there.

"White coffee, no sugar?" the voice of the waitress broke him from his thoughts and he looked up at her.

"Yes," he affirmed, pocketing his phone, "thank you," he said as she placed his drink in front of him. She smiled at him and walked off.

Absently Sherlock picked up the mug, still thinking about Molly and wondering – like the sentimental fool he apparently was – if she was thinking of him.

Either way, he promised himself, next Valentine's Day would be different.


	2. Molly: Blue

**A/N: As I said, it was just going to be Sherlock, but...then I decided Molly needed something too. The line 'Red roses for a blue lady' is from the song of the same name. Hope you like :)**

**_Blue_**

…  
_Losing him was blue like I'd never known  
Missing him was dark grey all alone  
Forgetting him was like trying to know somebody you never met_  
-'Red,' Taylor Swift  
…

Everything was blue: her gloves, her mood, her jacket, his eyes…

She closed her own eyes briefly to stop the tears from forming; even though she knew he wasn't dead it still hurt that he wasn't there.

Especially today.

There had never been anything between them, but somehow it just seemed so much worse with him not even in the same city.

She didn't even know where he'd gone, he'd told it would be safer that way but she wished she knew he was all right.

She spent too much of her time thinking about him: worrying about what he might be doing, wishing he could come home.

The worst part about the situation was that he could be dead and she wouldn't know. She would just spend the rest of her life dreaming of him, stuck in limbo, unable to grieve for his loss.

She started as the morgue doors opened and John Watson came in, with Mary's help he was on the mend, but sadness still lingered in his eyes.

"Red roses for a blue lady," he said cheerfully, handing her the small bunch of roses he carried. "I thought you could use some colour in here," he added, looking at her kindly.

She forced a smile for his sake and went to find a vase.

"He wouldn't want you to still be mourning his loss, Molly," John said quietly, watching as she came back with a vase.

Molly remained silent as she concentrated on arranging the roses.

"He'd call it sentiment and you know how he felt about that," he reminded her with a rueful smile.

Molly looked up at him at that, realising that John had finally found a way to make peace with his death.

"I know…I just…" she trailed off, knowing she wouldn't be able to explain without betraying the secret.

John smiled and reached out to squeeze her shoulder, "I know, just…think about it, ok?" he asked, before looking at his watch and making his excuses.

After he left Molly regarded the roses thoughtfully, thinking of Sherlock and wondering where he might be, hoping he was safe.

She knew that what John was saying made sense; even though she knew he was alive she couldn't put her life on hold for him. She should go out, meet new people…but she couldn't.

She was the only person who knew that he was still alive and she felt like she owed it to him to remember; to live as though he was going to pop into her morgue at any given moment.

Because she had to believe that one day he would do just that.

Besides, moving on if he was truly dead would be hard enough, but moving on when she knew that somewhere he was still alive?

Impossible.

There was only one man for her and until he came swanning back into her life she wasn't going to forget that.

And maybe, just maybe, when he came back things would be different.

She smiled a little at the thought as she turned back to her work, taking a sip of her drink as she did so.

_Black, two sugars._


End file.
